


quality time

by soulmarionetter



Category: DREAM!ing (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, Yanagi struggles, Yuma overworks himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulmarionetter/pseuds/soulmarionetter
Summary: “Yanagi-senpai's hands…they are soft. It's nice.”And maybe he's ill, because there's no way Yanagi would fluster over something so innocent.
Relationships: Hanabusa Yanagi/Mochizuki Yuuma
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17
Collections: DREAM!ing Secret Santa 2019





	quality time

Yuma's been drawing a lot lately.

He's always holding his sketchbook close but, for the last few days, the frantic scratch of the pencil across the paper is the only sound that's been filling their shared room. At first, it was somewhat comforting, the light noise a signal of Yuma's quiet presence. A reminder, a constant, not something unwelcome. Maybe something to look forward.

Now, a week later, Yanagi thinks it might be the right time for a little break.

“How long have you been sitting there?” When Yanagi left the room for the afternoon, Yuma was already in front of his desk. It's been four hours, maybe even longer than that.

“I don't know.” _Well, at the very least, it's an honest answer._

He sighs, shifting through his things as he starts on his own night routine. He's not actually angry with Yuma, even if he's been neglecting himself, _this…might not even be the worst he's pushed through_ — He presses the hand cream's tube a little harder than usual. The excess drips on his palms, barely avoiding staining his clothes. It still feels like a loss, somehow.

He lifts his gaze back to Yuma again, he's curling until he's sitting in what couldn't be a comfortable position. A knot forms on his throat, then grows into strings that pull on his heart. He's not angry, just a little anxious (he might be more than a little anxious, Shinya was very worried when he relayed his partner's latest habits too). He makes his way to Yuma's desk.

_His fringe is getting longer_ , Yanagi thinks idly, as he notices the curls go over the shape of his glasses, obscuring his vision. The thick frame is most likely hiding eye bags, too. When was the last time he saw Yuma sleep? All over the desk, there are pages and pages of unfinished sketches and concepts. Discarded ideas and unfulfilled projects.

He understands what Yuma's doing and why he's working so hard. But Yanagi knows his family wouldn't feel happy, knowing he's putting himself under so much stress.

Mari's tearful eyes slip through his mind, endless blue, the same as Yuma's.

“Yu~ma.” He calls with a sing-song tone, leaning slightly into his space, shoulders bumping. It works as expected, Yuma's hand stops mechanically. Tired blue eyes boring into his own and, _ah, he looks even worse when they are this close_.

“Yanagi-senpai, I—” He cuts him off with a shake of his head and a smile:

“Take this night off, okay? You'll continue tomorrow.” And Yuma's shoulders slump, but his hand drops the pencil. Yanagi chuckles, counts it as a small victory.

“Would you like a massage for your hands? I'm quite good with mine, you know?” He says, intending to light up the mood. Winks, for good measure. Yet, the innuendo jumps over Yuma's head. Instead, he raises his right arm and moves until those fingers are within reach of his own. It takes a second for Yanagi to admit he might've played himself.

But he bites the bullet, and the fingers of his right hand encircle Yuma's thin wrist, while his left-hand holds onto his palm. He's tense, alarmingly so.

“When was the last time you rested?”

Yuma hums, as if searching for an answer. Anything. It's not a good sign:

“Okay, I understand.”

His fingertips go up and down the length of Yuma's forearm, feeling the swollen nerves beneath. He takes care, minding his touch to cause the least pain possible. Considering the situation, Yanagi is slightly nervous (that's the reason his heart is beating progressively faster), now he thinks he should've asked for Shinya's help (but no, he didn't want to). Yuma flinches a little when Yanagi's caress dips down, pressing lightly and sliding further.

It's different from holding a girl's hand. Yuma's is calloused in a way that's difficult to ignore. It's no wonder, he knows that his partner's life is completely unlike his own. Still, he's somewhat fascinated, by the rough edge of Yuma's skin, the way his fingers are longer than Yanagi's— he diligently presses in a circular motion, treating every finger from top to bottom. The contact makes Yuma sigh, as if pleased:

“Yanagi-senpai's hands…they are soft. It's nice.”

And maybe he's ill, because there's no way Yanagi would fluster over something so innocent.

“...I'm glad.” He says, pushing his ridiculous embarrassment to the back of his mind. There's no way. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.” Yuma says, clear voice completely honest. _He's really glad_ , Yanagi is now stroking his palm, since it's already come to this, he should switch to the other. “But you know, Yanagi-senpai…”

“What is it?”

“I got a massager for my birthday, I learned how to use it because it helps with work.”

_Oh_. Green eyes meet blue. Yuma doesn't even look a bit close to apologetic. He's certain someone else is influencing him, he's been getting cheekier. 

“...And you didn't tell me because?”

“Yanagi-senpai looked like he really wanted to do it himself.”

He's going to talk to Mikage tomorrow, maybe.


End file.
